Spell of Summoning

by Anna Abner

  “It’s a simple spell.” He didn’t need the phone for this part, just sketched a harp to bridge the world of the living and the realm of the dead, a chalice, a scales of justice, and the symbol for equilibrium. One mark on each of the four compass points. He could have added more, but that covered the basics.

  “You ready?” Holden whispered at Grams.

  She clutched her needles and ball of lavender yarn tight before stepping to the very edge of his circle. “Don’t forget this is my first time, too.”

  Rebecca offered his phone back. “Who are you talking to?”

  He waved away the phone. He’d already memorized the spoken spell so he wouldn’t look like too much of a rookie. “My Grams. The power for the spell comes from her.”

  Cole was a self-proclaimed old-school necromancer who only cast in Latin, so, for the time being so did Holden.

  He nodded at Grams. “Don’t hit me too hard, okay?”

  He set the broken frame on the ground in front of him, knelt in his spell circle, and said, “Sarcio.”

  Holden’s fingers tingled, and an uncomfortable heat spread out from his core. He focused on the frame, which lay on the ground broken and unchanged.

  He said, “Sarcio” again.

  Nothing.

  “What’s happening?” Rebecca asked.

  Complete and utter humiliation. “Let me think for a second.”

  Grams set her knitting onto an invisible side table and wrung her hands. “It’s me. I’m no good at this.”

  Holden huffed a laugh. “It’s not you.” He double-checked his spell marks, wiping out the harp with the side of his hand. “Let me fix something.” He redrew it with seven distinct strings. Then he checked the other three symbols, confident they were exact replicas of Cole’s.

  He rolled his shoulders. “One more time.” Closing his eyes, he cast the spell again.

  A sizzling sensation spread up his arms like currents of electricity. Heat blossomed under his ribs to the point of pain.

  Trapped, alone, in the living room, Buster barked at full volume and clawed at the sliding glass door.

  Rebecca made a strangled noise like a half shriek, half gasp.

  Holden’s eyes popped open. Rebecca was fine, and the framed photo was in perfect condition. No more cracks, no more scratches. Like it had never been broken at all.

  “Holy shit.” He climbed to his feet.

  “Watch your language.” But Grams grinned.

  “Holden?” Rebecca backed away, pulling at her suddenly clean and unsnagged clothing. “It’s all gone.” Her eyes bright, she reached out and clasped both his hands in hers, forcing him to his feet. “Now, I believe you.”

  * * *

  Holden dialed Cole’s cell number and waited through several rings. It had been a long, cold night. After saying good-bye to Rebecca, he and Buster had settled into the parked Jeep to do a little more research where he could still keep an eye on her. And her demon.

  “Who the hell is calling me at midnight?” Cole grouched into his phone.

  Impolite, maybe, but Holden couldn’t wait until morning.

  “I’ve done some light reading.” What a joke. Talk about hours and hours of reading while Rebecca slept in her apartment across the street. “And there is some anecdotal evidence about electricity.”

  “Holden?” Cole groaned, and then a door shut in the background. “Are you actually insane? I mean, for real?”

  “No. This is serious. Rebecca said the demon turned lights on and off. Plus this site I found—”

  “I think I remember something about lightning, but I don’t need to explain to you the problems with that plan, do I?”

  “Electricity. Not lightning.” Controlling the weather was a bit beyond Holden’s abilities at this point. “It’s possible to exorcise a demon with electricity.”

  A loud sigh. “Possible? I don’t know, man. It’s risky. How much? How often? When? Where—”

  “I’m positive if I zap the demon, the current will destroy it.”

  “How do you zap the demon without zapping her?” Cole asked.

  “I haven’t figured that out yet,” Holden admitted. So, his plan wasn’t perfect, but at least he had one. “I’ll keep reading, but hang on. I need you to run a couple of errands for me. I can’t leave Rebecca alone. Can you do that?”

  “Depends on the errand.”

  “You can buy it all legally at an army surplus.” Holden read Cole his shopping list.

  “Are you serious with this stuff?” Cole sounded more and more exhausted.

  “I told you. I’ve been reading about these electricity—”

  “Okay, fine, but I’ve been reading some books and I found something that will honestly work.” Cole paused and then blurted out, “You could summon the demon into yourself. Hear me out. You’re stronger than she is. You can channel power, and then you can exorcise it for good. I can teach you some spells.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Are you serious?” Put a demon inside himself? Why not cut his throat right now because it was basically the same thing?

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  “Stop the necromancer.”

  “By electrocuting your girlfriend?” Cole scoffed.

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  Cole chuckled. “Right. Well, keep reading. I will, too. And I’ll buy this serial killer stuff for you, but only if you swear to me you’re not going to kill anyone with it.”

  * * *

  After Holden and Buster left, Rebecca changed into pajamas and fired up her laptop to do her own research. Magic. Demons. Necromancy. Ninety-nine percent of the search results had to do with works of fiction. And the one percent? Mostly blogs written by people who took the movies and the novels way too seriously.

  She didn’t find anything useful after hours of trolling websites and watching video clips. When she did finally sleep, to say she did so poorly would be a huge understatement. It was fairer to say she got up twice to swallow ibuprofen by the handful and once to put an icepack on the back of her neck.

  To top it off, her phone rang at 5:15 a.m. on the dot. Caller ID read “Derek.” Her assistant.

  “Who died?” she grumbled into her cell.

  “The offer fell through on the Havers Street property. I just got the call.”

  Becca sat up, instantly awake and in business mode. Well, shit. So things could get worse. “Did you call the other agent? Find out what happened?”

  “Same old story. Cold feet and a bad market.”

  She sighed. “This is not what I need right now.”

  “I’m relisting it.” Sure enough, computer keys clicked in the background. “I’ll put out some feelers for any interested buyers.”

  “Send a photo and a description to my mailing list,” she said. “And get it at the top of our site. Freaking post it on your Twitter if you think it will help, but we have to sell this house. I’m not leaving town with loose ends blowing in the wind.”

  “Yes, ma’am. On it.”

  “What about Lane Street?”

  “No news to report. The open house is still Saturday,” Derek said. “How’s your vacation?” Sometimes she thought Derek needled her on purpose. He knew what a workaholic she was and how much she hated taking time off.

  But she didn’t want to talk about it. Because the truth was, she felt like twelve hours past awful. So she needled him back. “Did you pick up my dry cleaning?”

  He hung up.

  Becca considered crawling under the covers, but that time had come and gone. Instead she took an extra long shower and got ready for her day. So much for a break.

  She and Holden had a nine thirty date with a witch, but there was time to swing by the office first. She dressed for work in a pale pink sundress.

  The light cotton fabric slid down her body, and she got a mental flash of Holden in the parking lot yesterday reaching for her, wrapping her in his strong arms when her knees wobbled. He was too handsom
e for his own good, and she should stay a hundred yards away, but they had an appointment in Springfield. That was at least another hour and a half of today in his perplexing company.

  The guy seemed to genuinely want to help. Since no one else, herself included, had any better ideas for stopping the headaches and the nightmares and the unexplained phenomena, she put her faith in him.

  Because his magic was real. Like, spooky real.

  She couldn’t imagine having his power. And to think he didn’t even use it. What a waste.

  Becca paired her dress with a cropped black jacket and a pair of pearl earrings the size of quail eggs. On the way out the door she checked the fridge, but it was bare. Some eggs. Leftover Italian food from two days ago. She grabbed a protein bar from the pantry and headed out into the cool North Carolina morning.

  All those thoughts of Holden must have conjured him from the ether. His Jeep sat across the street. Buster barked hello.

  When Holden saw her, he slowly climbed out wearing the same clothes and UNC cap he’d had on yesterday. He had a lot more beard stubble, too.

  “Morning.” What a strange guy. There could not be two of him in the world. Not two tall, claustrophobic, blue-eyed necromancers with hyperactive dogs for best friends. “When did you get here?”

  “I never left.”

  Rebecca faltered halfway across the narrow lane. “You slept in your Jeep? All night?” The vehicle didn’t have leather, reclining seats, or climate control. It was no better than sleeping on a park bench.

  “Something could happen.”

  With her. Holden was waiting for her to demonify and go nuts. “What would you do if something did happen?”

  He glanced over his shoulder, and Buster wagged his tail at him. “I’ve been working on the answer to that all night.”

  Rebecca’s heart went out to him. “You didn’t sleep?” She looked him up and down. Unbelievably, he was even sexier today, all sleepy and scruffy.

  “No. I did research on my laptop.”

  “And no one called the police?” She eyed the dark windows in the apartment buildings flanking the street. Good job, y’all. She’d have to talk to management about the complete lack of a neighborhood watch.

  “No, but Carl walked his dog through here last night and told me all about his tomatoes.”

  Becca rolled her eyes. “Anyway, what did you learn?”

  “Uh.” Holden scratched the stubble along his jaw, making her wonder how rough it would feel against her fingers. Or against her mouth. He said, “I was reading up on our worst-case scenario.”

  “Which is?”

  “The necromancer finishes his spell.”

  “And puts a demon into me.” Yeah, definitely worst case. She swallowed past a dry, dry throat.

  “I might be able to pull the demon out of you, but I’d have to put it somewhere else. Somewhere safe.”

  “Like a dog or something?” She glanced at Buster. No. Not cool. Maybe something smaller like a gecko or a goldfish. Yes, an evil fish. That should be easy to handle.

  “I’m still working on it.”

  “Well, I’ve got to get to my office. One of my properties is in trouble.” Rebecca checked her watch. “I have a couple of hours before we drive to Springfield.”

  “Okay.” Holden climbed into his Jeep.

  She unlocked her car, and it took her two seconds to realize Holden wasn’t going anywhere. Why not accept the ride?

  “Can you stop by Starbucks?” She hopped into the passenger seat and tucked her bag between her knees, not trusting Buster to be a gentleman. Their truce wasn’t that rock solid. “I need the biggest, hottest cup of coffee they make.”

  “How did you sleep last night?” he asked.

  “Great.”

  He gave her a look.

  “Oh.” Honesty. Right. Becca scratched Buster good and long before answering with the full truth. “Awful. I had nightmares, and my headache is back.”

  Holden handed her his cap, still warm and smelling of him. Like earth and male.

  She pulled it on. “Will you know the person who’s doing this on sight? Will they have a flashing aura or something?” She chuckled, though none of this seemed very funny anymore. If it ever had been.

  “Not unless he’s cast a spell on himself. But he probably won’t be that stupid.”

  “If only we were so lucky.”

  “Grams might be able to sniff out something from other spirits, especially ones that he uses for power. But that’s a long shot. There are a lot of spirits in the world.” He grunted as he shifted into first and pulled onto the street. “Do you have a string of enemies in your past?”

  “You mean do any of my former clients dabble in the dark arts?” Rebecca smiled. “Sorry. No. I have business rivals, sure, but no enemies. I have a few friends, but nobody who harbors a grudge. Not that I know of.” And that was 100 percent the truth.

  “Well, think harder.” Holden turned onto Marine Boulevard and headed downtown. “Because someone out there wants to destroy you. Not just kill you,” he said and glanced at her, “but turn you into a monster.”

  After a coffee run, Holden parked in front of her office and walked Buster toward the entrance of the Rebecca Powell Realty Group.

  She’d always been so proud of her business. Not caring of the cost, she’d hired an interior designer who’d chosen the muted color schemes, brought in comfortable and stylish furniture, and designed the work space to be open with no walls or barriers. It was her absolute pride and joy. If Rebecca could have taken a photo and kept it in her wallet the way other people kept photos of their children, she would have.

  But now? She was closing the doors on May 1. Twenty-two days. And she wasn’t even sad about it.

  “Let’s make this fast.” Holden held the front door for her.

  “Why?” She wasn’t used to being bossed around. She did the bossing. “You in some kind of hurry?” They still had hours before their appointment in Springfield.

  Real estate agent Jessa McAvoy, and not Rebecca’s assistant Derek Walker, greeted them from the front desk in the stylish reception area. The other three junior agents had already moved on to bigger and better jobs, but Jessa insisted on staying until the very end.

  “Where’s Derek?” Rebecca asked.

  “He said he’d call from the road,” Jessa said. “He’s working on the Havers Street property. You heard?”

  “I did.” Rebecca led Holden around the desk, noticing two vases of wilting lilies on the side table. “Replace these, please,” she told Jessa. “They look so sad.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do it right now.”

  Rebecca marched through the empty workroom and unlocked her filing closet. It was empty. All the files—every hard copy, every manila folder—were gone.

  “Jessa?” she called, panic rattling through her chest. The other woman appeared in the hall like she’d been waiting for her. “Where are all my files?”

  “I boxed them up.” Jessa crossed her arms. “And put them in storage with the extra computers and desk chairs. You asked me to, remember?”

  She touched her forehead. It sounded logical.

  “You told me the unused desks and shelves go next,” Jessa added. “The movers are coming tomorrow. Is that still your plan?”

  “Yes, of course. I just forgot.”

  She gave Rebecca’s arm a sympathetic squeeze. “It’s okay. You’ve been under a lot of stress, even for you.”

  Understatement. “Jessa. Someone is…” How to explain? Maybe half the truth was better in this situation. So she did what she was so good at and spun the story. “Stalking me.”

  Jessa gasped. “Are you okay? Have you called the police?”

  “There’s nothing to report. It’s more like a few sightings and a suspicion.” Rebecca fiddled with the door lock. “Has there ever been anyone in one of our deals who was super pissed off? At me, especially? Has anyone ever threatened me? In a letter or a voicemail, maybe, that you never told
me about?”

  Jessa shook her head. “No, Boss. Everyone loves you. Well—” She rolled her eyes. “There’s Charley, but she’d never hurt you. Not physically, anyway.” She laughed lightly.

  Charley McGovern, her realty rival, was a sophisticated, skinny social climber who wished she was as successful in Auburn real estate as Rebecca. But she never had caught up. If Rebecca went insane, Charley would have the town to herself. Rebecca could not picture the woman casting spells, though.

  “Thanks,” Rebecca said with almost zero feeling. “If you think of anything, though…”

  “Oh, sure. Of course.” She handed Rebecca a file folder with a bright plaid pattern on the cover. “The information you asked for.”

  Right. The background check on Holden. She accepted the file but didn’t open it. “How’s the Lane Street house coming along?”

  “There was an offer submitted last night.”

  “What? No one told me. Jessa, that’s unacceptable. I don’t care if we’re closing down. When an offer comes in, I know about it.”

  “I’m sorry. Derek called me. I thought he called you, too.”

  “No!” Damn them both and their vacation idea. She was a big girl. She could handle one offer. “And?”

  “The sellers are considering it.”

  “Okay.”

  “I thought…” Jessa put her arm around Rebecca’s shoulders. “You were going to take the rest of the week off?”

  “I was, but then all this happened.”

  “You should go home.”

  “That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” Rebecca grumbled. She arranged her two rings, one sapphire and diamond, the other a sterling silver braided band, lining them up exactly parallel to her knuckle bones. She exhaled, feeling a little better.

  Leaving Jessa to answer the phones, Rebecca found Holden sitting at her desk typing on her computer.

  She arched an eyebrow. Good to know he made himself at home wherever he went. “Can I help you?” she asked, only partly teasing.

  “Did you come up with a list?” he asked. “Pissed off clients and business competitors?”

  To the truth was, she’d sold her first condo at the age of eighteen and worked steadily closing deals ever since. Add up all those buyers and sellers, the opposing agents on each deal, the loan officers, the home inspectors, and the escrow people, and she could be talking one thousand or more different people that she’d worked with directly or indirectly over the years. It would be impossible to pinpoint one slighted notary public, one disappointed husband, or one pissed off competing agent.